


The Birthday Gift

by zaan



Series: Unfamiliar Affections [1]
Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: Friendship, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-17
Updated: 2018-09-12
Packaged: 2019-06-28 18:24:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 5,412
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15712617
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zaan/pseuds/zaan
Summary: During a long visit to the station, Joseph Sisko finds himself at loose ends, and Garak is always looking for someone to talk to.  Captain Sisko is not amused.





	1. Socks and Stewing

**Author's Note:**

  * For [prairiecrow](https://archiveofourown.org/users/prairiecrow/gifts), [airandangels](https://archiveofourown.org/users/airandangels/gifts), [Gul_Obsidian_Dragon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gul_Obsidian_Dragon/gifts), [Jade_Waters](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jade_Waters/gifts), [tinsnip](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tinsnip/gifts), [LadyDrace](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyDrace/gifts), [mrs260](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mrs260/gifts), [KJGooding](https://archiveofourown.org/users/KJGooding/gifts), [zombified_queer](https://archiveofourown.org/users/zombified_queer/gifts), [Cyrelia_J](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cyrelia_J/gifts), [NoOneKnowsIWriteThis](https://archiveofourown.org/users/NoOneKnowsIWriteThis/gifts), [Ameera](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ameera/gifts), [vocal_fries](https://archiveofourown.org/users/vocal_fries/gifts), [AuroraNova](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AuroraNova/gifts), [Blu3fairy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blu3fairy/gifts), [ConceptaDecency](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ConceptaDecency/gifts), [BubbaKnowlton](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BubbaKnowlton/gifts), [EdosianOrchids901](https://archiveofourown.org/users/EdosianOrchids901/gifts), [AlphaCygni](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlphaCygni/gifts), [GulJeri](https://archiveofourown.org/users/GulJeri/gifts), [CastellanGarak](https://archiveofourown.org/users/CastellanGarak/gifts), [luxurypurses](https://archiveofourown.org/users/luxurypurses/gifts), [KanarandTarkaleanTea](https://archiveofourown.org/users/KanarandTarkaleanTea/gifts), [Savorybreakfasts](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Savorybreakfasts/gifts), [OnePartWisdom](https://archiveofourown.org/users/OnePartWisdom/gifts), [qwanderer](https://archiveofourown.org/users/qwanderer/gifts), [Altariel](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Altariel/gifts).



> My first work. I have gotten so much enjoyment reading others' work in this fandom over the last year that I wanted to offer something small back to those authors noted above and many more.

Joseph picked up another sock and thought how quickly people reverted to old roles. It had amazed him how quickly Ben - a station commander and father himself – had transformed into an oversized teenager dropping clothing and scowls as he rushed around their quarters grumbling he didn’t have time for eggs jambalaya, he’d got a staff meeting, and what the hell had his father done with his uniform? Joseph sighed and started to tidy away the breakfast dishes. He was being unfair, he knew - after all, what had he done when he’d arrived but shoo everyone out of the kitchen and insist he wanted to take care of them? But the knowledge did little to lessen his resentment, a resentment that was, in truth, not about Ben at all.

Joseph had been excited when Ben had proposed the visit to DS9. He had tested the patience of his friends night after night explaining Ben’s role on the station, the station’s strategic importance and relation to the wormhole, the wormhole aliens, the significance of the aliens to the Bajorans as gods, and Ben’s nearly godlike role as emissary of the Prophets. In the weeks before he left, he had apologized insincerely to each of his customers several times over that the restaurant would be closed for 6 months.  


Joseph was still proud of Ben, of course he was. He was still happy to be with him and Jake. He was happy just to be able to spend time with them, to learn more about their lives, about the things that never seemed very clear from weekly video chats and occasional letters. Still, he had expected more. He had expected his role as father and grandfather to be more than picking up socks and making gumbo. He had thought he would be needed. But Ben was comfortable in his role as father, as station commander, as emissary of the prophets. Jake was no longer a child. He was more sure of himself, of who he was and where he wanted to go. 

They sensed Joseph’s restlessness. Ben diagnosed it kindly but inaccurately as boredom and urged him to try out Trill meditation or Quark’s new Lurian mud bath. Joseph snorted at the thought; sometimes he felt like Ben didn’t know him at all. But Ben had never been perceptive – loving, yes; intelligent, yes; perceptive ... well, he’d never been interested in looking below the surface. He liked things and people to be straightforward, easily categorized. Jake was different. Jake was much more like Joseph. Like Joseph, Jake was intensely interested in people, in trying to dig deep and see the hidden feelings and motivations and complexity. Jake might have fared better in understanding and responding to Joseph’s restlessness except that he was so into his new love interest and writing poetry and combining these two interests that he ignored his gut instinct and agreed with his father that his grandfather was just bored – Jake knew better than to suggest the Lurian mud bath, though.  


Joseph sighed. He needed to start the stew for dinner, and he needed to stop being childish. He was being unreasonable. He would do something useful, go down to the Promenade and start looking for Ben’s birthday present.


	2. Shopping and Talking

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Joseph wanders into Garak's store

Joseph had spent nearly two hours browsing among the shops. He was surprised at how pedestrian and familiar they were. Wasn’t DS9 a frontier station on the doorstep of the mysterious, unknown Delta Quadrant? But here were the inevitable jewelry and clothing stores, candy shops, bakeries, hair salons, and ‘antique’ stores with swift talking salesmen hawking wares of dubious ancestry. He took his time, however (he had nothing but time) and indulged his natural curiosity. He had unnerved some of the shopkeepers who had tried, and by and large failed, to follow him surreptitiously around the store. He was unsure if they followed him simply because he was The Father Of The Emissary or because they thought he was a doddering old kleptomaniac and were pondering the spiritual implications of having The Father Of The Emissary arrested by Constable Odo.

So it was that when Joseph entered Garak’s Clothiers he was somewhat relieved to find the store empty, the proprietor supposedly occupied in the back room. He looked around appreciatively. A high necked, rather formal shirt in contrasting gold, black and white stripes displayed near the entrance caught his attention. Bold, but short of ostentatious. Care had obviously been taken with the stitching; even the smooth black buttons were fastened on tightly and neatly. He brushed his fingers against the sleeve and was surprised by the delicate lightness of the material.

A voice, itself light and delicate, interrupted him.

“Andorian silk is incredibly comfortable and surprisingly durable considering its lightness.”

The sight of the proprietor – and where had he come from? - surprised him. He had forgotten the shop was owned by a Cardassian and had in fact never seen one before. He examined him with curiosity, but without rudeness, supplying for good measure the radiant, warm smile with which all Sisko men were blessed. “Oh, I’m not much for fashion myself, not in my line of work, but I appreciate good craftsmanship. I’m actually looking for a birthday gift for my son.”

Garak – not so easily won over - gave a small, polite smile in return. He indicated the brightly coloured shirt. “That is perhaps not the captain’s usual style.”

Joseph smiled again, amused. “No, Ben’s not what you’d call adventurous.”

“Perhaps I could suggest something else? Something in a dark blue?”

“You can show me,” Joseph shrugged, “but truth be told, I was just passing the time. I can’t really see myself getting Ben clothing for his birthday. Not that it isn’t nice and all,” he added. “I just wouldn’t want to put you to any trouble.”

“I assure you, it’s no trouble at all. If you’re concerned he won’t like what I suggest, you needn’t worry. I’m familiar with the Captain’s tastes, and I do have his measurements on file.”

“Ah, but then the gift would be coming from you,” said Joseph, wagging a finger.

“I was planning on charging you for it.”

“Very thoughtful. But I meant it would be cheating.”

“So I understood, but I am unsure as to why. Do you feel no one else should be involved in the process, or do you require gifts to be more personal?”

“Well, a gift is as much about you as the person you give it to, isn’t it?”

“In what way?”

Joseph leaned in – a sign Jake would easily have recognized as a prelude to one of the little sermons Joseph was so fond of delivering. “A gift shouldn’t just be something someone will like. It should show you know them, remind them of you, be something that only you could have given them. It should require time, and effort, and thought too – not just money. I don’t like this idea people have of it being just another chore to get done, as if celebrating a birthday is no different from doing laundry.”

“That sounds rather complicated,” said Garak, who rather enjoyed a good speech and was not above making one or two of his own. “On Cardassia, gift giving is much more regimented.”

“No risks, no surprises?”

“And no failures, unless it’s a failure of duty. For us, there is nothing more important than duty. Gift giving is about tradition and respect. The type of gift – and amount of respect – depends on the person’s age, profession, position and your relation to them. Quite different from your culture, as I’ve learned from unfortunate experience. On Dr. Bashir’s 30th birthday I gave him a holonovel, a classic enigma tale - an entirely respectful and appropriate gift from a Cardassian point of view, you understand – and yet …”

“It wasn’t entirely to his liking?”

“Alas, no.”

“We humans have a saying: ‘It’s the thought that counts.’”

“We Cardassians have a saying: ‘Only success is remembered.’ If you had visited the station earlier, I might have been more successful. Or perhaps not. It sounds an almost impossible endeavour.”

“It can be. I’ve been in most every shop in the Promenade. Still, I have a few weeks left. I hold out hope.”

“A very human characteristic.” Garak paused, appraising Joseph politely but intently. Suddenly Garak smiled more naturally and said, “You must be tired. Would you care to sit for awhile?” There were two comfortable chairs near the sitting rooms, kept for tired customers, bored spouses, and Garak’s occasional visitors. ”I have a small replicator in the back that can be relied on to make a decent, if uninspiring, cup of tea.”

“Thank you. Tea would be nice.” Joseph was glad he had passed Garak’s inspection. He suspected not many people did. Not many people passed his own inspection, either, but Garak interested him.

The tea was much better than Garak had claimed, and the conversation as interesting as Joseph had anticipated. Joseph stayed until lunch, and when he went back to Ben’s quarters found his good mood thoroughly restored.


	3. My friend

“Off to see your friend again?”

“You know how I like my routines,” Joseph teased. For the last two weeks he had been visiting Garak nearly every day, heading down after breakfast and staying until lunch.

“That I do. It’s nice to see you settling in.” Ben was sincere. He had felt both concerned and guilty about his father’s unhappiness, and his improved mood pleased him.

“Well, it’s not a Lurian mud bath, but sitting and chatting isn’t a terrible way to pass the morning.”

“You’re never going to let me live that down, are you?” laughed Ben.

“Probably not.” He gave his son an affectionate squeeze on his arm and pressed a small, metal container into his hand. “I made some of that date bread you like so much, in case you need fortifying later when you’re busy saving the station.”

“Just meetings and reports, today, but thanks, Dad.” Ben replied. He laid his hand on his father’s shoulder. “I’ll see you tonight. Say hi to your friend.”

“I will.”

He watched as Ben grabbed a pile of PADDs and left their quarters. It was always ‘my friend’. Joseph had never been specific, and If Ben assumed the friend he went off to see was Tokan, the elderly Bajoran florist to whom Ben had too-casually introduced him, was that Joseph’s fault? Was it Joseph’s fault that Tokan was dull, pedantic and shallow? Or that Garak was sharp, subtle and complex?

He knew enough about his son, and had learned enough about Garak from a few casual conversations with Jake, to know that Ben would not be pleased at the identity of his friend. Joseph smiled to himself. What an interesting conversation they would have when Ben realized his mistake.

***

““Off to see your friend again?”

Garak, on his way across the Promenade to open his shop, looked up to see Julian Bashir grinning at him from the doorway of the infirmary.

“Jealous, doctor?” Garak teased. He hadn’t so much as mentioned Joseph to Julian, knowing how Julian liked to puzzle things out – especially when Garak was the puzzle.

“Don’t flatter yourself. Still, it’s nice to see someone recognizes your charm.” Julian was sincere. People were so suspicious of, indifferent to, or hostile towards Garak that they never saw his wit, intelligence, and kindness. Joseph’s discernment pleased him.

“What better way to weasel secret Starfleet information out of him, wouldn’t you say?”

“You’re never going to let me live that down, are you?” laughed Julian.

“Probably not.” He covered up a fond look with a dramatic roll of his eyes. “I finished reading _Of Human Bondage_ last night – really Doctor,  as if life on this station weren’t trying enough.  However, I am looking forward to your futile attempt at defense this afternoon. That is, if your work isn’t too pressing.”

“Just some routine vaccinations and reports.” Julian replied. He looked fondly at Garak, then stepped back into the office. “I’ll see you at lunch. Say hi to your friend.”

Garak hummed, neither agreeing nor disagreeing.

He watched for a moment as Julian busied himself with the day’s charts, then turned towards his shop. His ‘friend’. He didn’t like the way warmth rose in his chest at the thought. It was a particular weakness of his, with which Tain had often reproached him - this tendency not only to like people who were kind to him, but to want to be liked by them and to be kind to them in return.

He knew enough about the Captain, and how the Captain felt about him, to know that he would not be pleased with Garak making this particular friend. Garak smiled to himself. There was a silver lining after all. What an interesting conversation they would have when the Captain came to call.


	4. The gift

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Emissary's birthday is approaching, and everyone is getting ready

“Ah, Nand – how are you? And Arestra, my dear, are you well?”

The tall Bajoran man ushered his young daughter through the door of the shop. “Very well, thank you, Garak,” he said. Arestra, who was clutching a china doll and grinning up at Garak, nodded vigorous assent.

Joseph, who was perched near the cutting table with a PADD, glanced up with a polite smile and nod, then returned to his reading. He always brought a book when visiting Garak; he didn’t want to interefere with Garak’s business, and people never liked to feel they were being observed. He still observed them, thoroughly, but quietly with his eyes occasionally drifting from his book as if in thought . He was a practiced observer, and noticed a good deal. The first thing he noticed when Nand Kieren walked in was that Garak liked him.

It had taken him a great amount of time and study to have any confidence in his observations of Garak and his nearly flawless poker face. But every player has their tell: twisting a ring, a nervous laugh, avoiding your eyes, an impatience to play their hand. No matter how controlled, how disciplined, how trained the mind the body struggled.

Some people let their body speak freely. With others, the body was restrained, and when layered with individual and cultural nuances of expression, nearly mute. Garak shouted silence.

Yet if you listened patiently, the silence eventually spoke. Garak’s expressions would take a lifetime to decipher, but Joseph was starting to discern the edges. How he wore weariness in the flicker of his eyelids. How he allowed ease to loosen his posture and dance in his hands. How he sheathed his irritation in a finger marking circles on a counter.

The rudeness Garak endured from so many of his customers had shocked Joseph. Garak handled them calmly, politely, but Joseph could see how it wore on him. Nand, fortunately, was one of the few Bajorans that treated Garak not only with politeness but with fondness.

Garak’s posture relaxed and a gentle smile found his lips as he crouched beside Arestra.

“Now, you wouldn’t be needing a new dress for a special occasion, would you?”

Arestra nodded.

“The Emissary’s birthday,” Nand supplied. “I know I’ve left it a little late, with Jana working the night shift these past few weeks I’ve been run off my feet, and I know you must have a mountain of orders to fill, but I don’t need anything for myself and -”

Garak shushed him with his hand. “It’s quite all right. Hmmm ... what colour shall it be?” he asked, knowing the answer.

“Yellow, please,” said Arestra softly. To the Bajorans, yellow was an auspicious colour and almost every Bajoran on the station planned to wear it to the Emissary’s Day of Birth celebration.

“And a matching dress for your doll, perhaps?”

“Oh yes,” she breathed.

“Really, that’s very kind of you,” said Nand. Garak, standing, offered words of reassurance, promised the dress in two days time, quickly took Arestra’s (and her doll’s) measurements, chatted for a few more minutes, and then escorted them from the shop.

  
As he returned, Joseph showed him a sketch he had been working on.

Garak raised his eyes. “Isn’t the number of pockets a little ... extravagant, Joseph?”

Joseph smiled. A week ago he had finally hit upon the perfect gift for Ben’s birthday: an apron, made by Garak but designed by him.

“Yes, well, it’s kind of a joke. When Ben was little and helping me in the kitchen, I got a small apron for him. He was upset that it only had one pocket, whereas mine had three, so he kept taking mine, even though it didn’t fit.”

Garak examined the design, then reached over and made some adjustments. “What about that?” He had reduced the number of pockets slightly but made them more prominent.

Joseph nodded. Garak’s design was undoubtedly more pleasing. “And this pattern,” said Joseph. “Do you have anything like it? It’s from the walls of the first restaurant I had, where I taught Ben how to cook.”

“No, but it’s fairly straightforward. I can program it and print it onto a plain piece of fabric. I have a few things that might do – Rigellian canvas, perhaps, or Bolian weaved cotton.”

“Will one stain more than the other?”

“Not normally, but I’ve never used either for this sort of project. It’s simple enough to test, though,” said Garak, waving his hand over the work table. “I’ve plenty of scraps, and I can replicate a few foods.”

“The replicator?” Joseph scowled.

“Really, Joseph? For stains you insist on using real food? Surely you’re not going to claim that real food stains differently.”

“And do you know it doesn’t?”

“That’s hardly an argument.”

“That’s hardly proof.”

“Fine.” Garak huffed. “As I assume you’ll be the one supplying the food, I’ve no objection.”

“I’ll bring something by tomorrow,” said Joseph. There was still a good portion of leftover gumbo. Ben had said he was going to take it for lunch yesterday but still hadn’t, so presumably wouldn’t miss it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Of course Ben will miss it ...


	5. Gumbo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ben finds out.

The next day Joseph arrived with a large pot. “Surely you don’t need that much,” said Garak, uneasily eyeing the dish and his racks of expensive fabrics. He steered Joseph away from the main display area to a table he had cleared off.

“Well, since I’ve been cooking there’s lots of leftovers, so I thought why not get some lunch out of the deal.”

“How kind. What is it?”

“Gumbo.”

“Gumbo? What an … interesting name.”

“A specialty of the part of earth that I’m from, and of mine in particular.”

It was another busy morning. They gave the fabrics a perfunctory “gumbo test” (the canvas was the clear winner) and set aside the rest for an early lunch.

They ate slowly and with great enjoyment, Garak noticing that unlike certain doctors Joseph knew how to properly savour and appreciate food. Their talk centred on the upcoming Day of Birth celebration.

“I don’t care for big, fancy parties,” Joseph explained. “And neither does Ben, really. We’re having the real party, the family one, the night before.”

“It may be good for business, but I’ll be happy when it’s over.” Everyone wanted to look their best for the event, and as Garak was the best, every night he sat up late working on yellow shirts, dresses, suits and sashes. “To think I used to like yellow,” he groused. Garak was poised to take another bite of gumbo when the shop door chimed. He sighed. He had only been eating for 10 minutes, but in the days leading up to the big event an uninterrupted lunch was a rarity.

Garak wiped his mouth, put down his napkin, plastered on a customer service smile, turned to the door and froze. Captain Sisko, having just walked in to see Garak and his father having lunch together, also froze.

“Mr. Garak.” said Ben. A pause. Silence. “Dad.” Ben was not prepared for this. His day had started badly. The gumbo he had saved for lunch was gone. He had had several long and unpleasant meetings. He had to shop – the Bajorans put a lot of effort into his birthday celebration – and he hated shopping. He had to shop at Garak’s – because whatever else he was the man was a fantastic tailor – and Ben found Garak exhausting and exasperating.

“Ah, Captain. How good of you to drop by, we were just talking about you. Is there something I can help you with?”

He had prepared himself to deal with Garak. He hadn’t prepared himself to find his father there, looking relaxed and at ease, sharing lunch with Garak. And he definitely hadn’t prepared himself to find Garak sharing _his_ lunch, eating _his gumbo._

“Hello, son, come to get a suit?” Joseph asked cheerfully.

“Yes. No. I mean, I need a shirt,” he said, fumblingly, when what he really wanted to say was ‘What the hell are you doing here feeding Garak my gumbo?’

“I have just the thing, Captain. I told your father so just the other day,” Garak said smoothly, knowing how the mention of his father would irritate the Captain. He produced a dark royal blue shirt that shimmered every so slightly, silky and smooth with a few gold threads woven through in patterns.

Damn, thought Ben. It was beautiful. That just made him grumpier. Against his will his fingers stretched out to touch the fabric. He grunted.

“I agree. Isn’t it breath-taking? I’ve been telling Joseph how much he needs a new shirt for the event, and I have the perfect one in mind for him, but you know how he is.” said Garak.

“Dad, you didn’t get a shirt yet? You promised.” Really, his father – wait, did Garak just call his father Joseph? Captain Sisko narrowed his eyes at Garak who smiled even brighter. “Nevermind, we’ll talk later.”

Ben managed to take the shirt from Garak’s hands without snatching it forcefully. He strode as calmly as he could to the changeroom. His stomach growled as the pungent smell of gumbo followed behind him. He grimaced. Tonight, he and his father were going to have _a talk_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ben totally doesn't win the talk


	6. The Talk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ben attempts to convince his father of the errors of his ways. He is unsuccessful

Ben had launched into his speech right after dinner. He took his usual tactic: forceful but kind. He started gently ( _he was sure Joseph didn’t know),_ laid out his objections clearly ( _Garak was deceitful, cunning, dangerous)_ , and finished logically ( _Garak was unsuitable)_. Only it didn’t feel usual. Usually people looked contrite, fidgeted, blushed, looked down, stammered, apologised. He would give a smile, a pat on the shoulder, move on. Problem solved.

Joseph was not contrite; he was unmoved. He didn’t fidget, blush or look down; he sat stiffly in his chair, arms folded. He neither stammered nor apologised; he kept a calm stony silence. It made Ben feel like a gangly, awkward teenager - as if he were the one in trouble. 

“And so, I don’t think your seeing Garak is a good idea,” Ben concluded lamely.

“You were happy when I found a friend.”  


“When I thought it was Tokan. He’s a nice man, he’s -”

“Boring and only wants to talk about his cats. Really, Ben, you’re not going forbid me to see him, are you? I’m not one of your officers nor one of your followers, I’m your father.”

“It’s just that I’m concerned.”

“About what, exactly?”

“People will - “

“Don’t tell me you’re concerned about what people will say. I taught you better than that.”

“I am concerned if it affects me and if they’re right.”

“Right about what?”

Ben paused. What, really, were his objections beyond the obvious? What did he expect Garak to do? Kidnap his father? Blackmail him? He covered his hesitation by getting up to fetch dessert. He couldn’t admit it was a knee-jerk reaction. He couldn’t say that Garak was never innocent, so clearly he didn’t really like his father and was just using him for some obscure, nefarious purpose. Instead he sighed as he put down the brownies and said, “I just don’t like the idea of you associating with someone like that.”

“Someone like that?”

Ben realised his mistake and started to backpedal. “I just meant -”

“I’m well aware of what you meant, Benjamin. We’re talking about Garak.”

“And Garak -”

“I’m not done. I’m well aware, and was before I set foot in his shop, of Garak’s reputation. I’m old, not stupid. I can see things for myself. I’ve seen bad things in my life, ugly things. Garak may have done bad things, but he’s not a bad person.”

Ben looked down, angrily pushing his brownie with his fork. Joseph continued on in a gentler voice.

“Ben, what do you really know about him? Rumours and random facts? What are they worth, even if they’re true? You don’t know why he did what he did. Everyone is complicated, Garak just more so. You’ve lived an easy life – not without tragedy, or pain, no one has that luxury – but stable, secure, with people who love you. Did Garak have that? Do you know only what he’s done, or what’s been done to him? ’

“I don’t know anything. That’s the problem. The man breathes lies and misdirections. I can’t believe anything he says,” Ben burst out in exasperation. He mushed his fork into his brownie. ‘ _Starship captains don’t have to put up with this_ ,’ he thought darkly. “And before you say it, I have neither the time, inclination nor energy to ‘get to know’ Garak.”

“I’m not suggesting you should. I know the responsibility you have; when it comes to station security you can’t afford be trusting. I’m not asking you to approve of him or to like him or to trust him. I’m asking you to trust me.”

What could Ben reply to that? He was not a terrible person. He knew his father had a point. But he didn’t want to think about Garak as a person, with a childhood, with possibly a horrible, abusive childhood. It was too complicated, and he had enough complications in his life. ‘ _It’s too late,’_ said a voice in his head. ’ _You’re already thinking about it.’_

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All of the chapters are finished except minor edits and will be up this week. Thanks for reading!


	7. An Olive Branch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ben and Garak have a late night chat

Three weeks later, on the eve of his birthday, Ben was walking through the dark and deserted Promenade feeling annoyed at the frivolous interruption of his pleasant evening. Dax had joined him and his family in a quiet and understated birthday celebration. It had been nice. He rarely enjoyed quiet time or simple pleasures. He had just fallen asleep, thoroughly relaxed, when a call had come through from Ops. An abnormal signal; would he come? In the end it was nothing more than an inexperienced and nervous officer on his first night shift, but the damage was done. Ben was dressed and awake; his chance of sleep was gone.

He wasn’t alone, though. Ahead, a faint yellow light tumbled from Garak’s shop. His immediate thoughts were suspicious. He caught himself and smiled. He wasn’t about to smother his suspicions, but perhaps he could be suspicious _and_ friendly.

He walked through the door and saw Garak surrounded, almost subsumed, by yellow. There were piles of yellow clothes and yards of yellow fabric. Across it lay disordered jumbles of yellow thread, yellow buttons and yellow beads. Garak, sewing furiously, didn’t even look up as he entered.

“Please excuse me, Captain, but unless this is about your shirt, any suspicions, admonitions, or accusations you would like to share with me will have to wait until _after_ your birthday party.”

Over the past few weeks, he and Garak had nodded politely at one another in passing, but they hadn’t talked. He doubted his father had mentioned his disapproval of their friendship, but Garak would know. “No admonitions or accusations, and just the usual suspicions.” He tried a friendly smile. “I got called to Ops and wondered why you were up too. I should have realised. I’m sorry to be the cause.”

“I suppose one can hardly blame a man for having a birthday, even if it does generate a plague of impatient Bajorans demanding hideous yellow party clothes.”

“It’s festive, Garak.” Personally, Ben agreed with the sentiment, but he wasn’t about to admit to that publicly, especially to Garak.

Garak sniffed but did not deign to reply.

Ben picked up a stray button and absently rolled it between his fingers. “I also wanted to say thanks, for the apron. It’s nice.”

Garak waved his hand. “Your father designed, and paid, for it,” he said. “You don’t owe me thanks any more than for the shirt you bought.”

“I know, but ...” he worked to find the right words. He tapped the button against the counter. “I can see how much happier my dad has been since he’s been spending time with you, and I wanted to thank you for that too.”

Garak lowered his needle and looked up warily. “Did you?” he said. “How … kind.”

“I try.” Another smile, less forced. “And sometimes I succeed.”

“Your father would be pleased.” Garak reached out and plucked the button from his hand. “You know, Captain,” he continued, “Your father is a good man, and I have grown rather fond of him. Although you may find it hard to believe, I assure you I have no ulterior motives beyond enjoying his company.”

Ben grinned. “And his gumbo.”

“And his gumbo.” Garak conceded with a small smile.

Ben stretched and turned toward the door. “Good night, Garak.”

“Good night,” said Garak. “And Captain?”

Ben paused at the doorway. “Yes?’

“Happy birthday.”


	8. Goodbyes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Joseph's visit is at an end

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone for reading, especially those who left comments and kudos!

The Day of Birth celebration was long over, and Joseph’s visit was at an end. He had packed and repacked. He had hugged Jake and Ben so much they were avoiding him. His shuttle was leaving that afternoon, and there was just one more thing for him to do.

“You should take a day off.” he said, walking through the door.

Garak looked down from his stool. He was busy putting up displays of scarlet flowers, having purged his shop of yellow. “And do what? As your people say, ‘The devil finds work for idle hands’. It’s a sentiment my father would have endorsed had he heard of it.”

“There’s a difference between rest and idleness,” said Joseph, sitting down in what had become his chair. “I’ve had enough rest to last me years. I’m looking forward to getting back to work.”

Garak got down, folded up his stool and stored it behind the counter. “You’re leaving this afternoon?” he asked, though he knew perfectly well what shuttle Joseph was on.

“Yes, just after lunch. I wanted to see you before I left. Maybe get a final lesson on Cardassian culture, find out how Cardassians say goodbye.”

“Without fuss. We’re not a sentimental people, we don’t draw things out. What was it Shakespeare said? ‘If it were done when ’tis done, then ’twere well It were done quickly’”

“Hopefully your goodbyes don’t all end in murder.”

“Not all of them.” Garak’s eyes twinkled.

“Well, humans, as you know, are dreadfully sentimental creatures. So in my culture it would be normal to tell someone that you’ll miss them, that you care about them, that you hope they take care of themselves, that you’ll think of them when you’re gone.”

“Fortunately you’re not as sentimental as most of your kind.”

“Fortunately.”

“Cardassians _might_ express similar sentiments, but only in gauche, overly-florid novels for the masses.” Garak paused, then said. “Any Cardassian, however, would express regret at the loss of intelligent conversation.” He held up his palm. “This is goodbye between Cardassians, when we are friends.”

Joseph held his hand up and held it there for a moment. Then he grinned and raised his eyebrows. “And do you know how human friends say goodbye?”

Before Garak could respond he found himself hugged. He huffed indignantly, but held on a moment longer than necessary.

“Take care, son.” said Joseph.

 

*****

Epilogue:

When Ben found his son in the kitchen scooping up a pile of jambalaya into a container, Jake jumped guiltily. Ben raised his eyes at the pile of food.

“Growing boys, Dad,” said Jake. His grandfather, on his departure, had asked Jake to keep an eye on Garak. So far, Jake had managed to keep Garak supplied with updates from earth and occasional helpings of homemade food without being discovered. “I thought I’d share some with Nog.”

“Mmmm hmmm.” his father said. He ruffled Jake’s hair. “I’ve got a late meeting, so don’t expect me for dinner.”

“No problem,” said Jake, relieved.

“Oh, and Jake?” his father added from the door.

“Yeah, Dad?”

“I think Garak might enjoy some of those crab cakes too.”


End file.
